In Plain Sight
by JesusOtakuFreak
Summary: One day, Olivia discovers her beloved Transformers franchise no longer exists! Oh, the horror! Or is it? In order to win a writing contest, Olivia writes a novel based on the first Transformers movie. But as her newfound fame soars, she finds out the hard way that her beloved Transformers might not have disappeared after all….
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers**. **Characters maybe OOC. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Prologue: What Would You Do?**

What would you do if your favorite franchise suddenly disappeared without reason? Like, _poof_, it's all of a sudden _gone._ One day, it existed, the literal next day people look at you as if you spouted two heads and are breathing fire when you mention said missing franchise. Like, seriously? I thought this sort of thing only happened in fanfiction.

No, seriously, I read countless stories where the franchise disappeared from existence, and the main character was the only person in the world who was aware of this, and then he or she—99.9% of the time, the character was a she—someway, somehow ended up meeting the characters from the franchise and… well, I don't know what happened next because usually I got bored and moved on to the next story. Anyways, onto my point: this type of stuff didn't happen in real life…. So, did that mean I wasn't real? Was life just one big lie? Hmm, maybe I should take that philosophy class after all….

What was I saying again? Oh, right, my question. So? What would you do? Would you freak out? Would you question reality? Would you question your _sanity?_ Or would you try to make the franchise your own by writing a book about it and have it become the nation's bestseller because why not? If you didn't cash in on such a great opportunity, then who would? No? You wouldn't do that last one? Well, then, that either makes you a better or dumber person than me. There is no definite way to determine who's in the right or wrong here. Or maybe you'll change your tune if I told you what _I_ did when this little phenomenon happened to me.

Yeah, that's right, it happened to me, Olivia Daniels, and I'm just going to say that I did all of the above when the Transformers franchise disappeared one day.


	2. It's My Duty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. ******Characters maybe OOC. You have been warned.****

* * *

**Chapter One: It's My Duty**

The strange phenomenon happened on an ordinary chilly Friday of the first week of October. I did my usual routine: woke up, brushed my teeth, took a shower, got into a heated argument with my roommate on cleanliness before marching off to my morning class. My day was uneventful up until I had lunch with my best friend. We always ate lunch together every Friday at the school's coffee shop because the store always had some sort of price cut on its coffees and pastries. When I entered the shop, the place was fairly crowded, and I scanned the area for my friend, spotting her at a table by the window.

"Hey, Riley," I said, plopping into the metal seat and shrugging off my backpack to the floor.

"Hey, Livvy," my best friend, Riley Smith, greeted back, waving.

She held a small black mug filled with piping hot, black coffee and lifted the cup to her cherry red lips, tentatively sipping the beverage. Riley and I have been friends since ninth grade and attended Preston-Collins University because of their first-rate journalism program. Now juniors, we support each other as we pursue our bachelor's degree. Riley tucked several strands of her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears, huffing as her green eyes sparked in annoyance. She usually preferred keeping her hair tied in a high ponytail, but because of the frigid weather, she kept her hair down.

"So, how was class?" I singsong.

Riley stared suspiciously, setting her cup down while I continued grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"It was boring, as usual. What's with the cheery look?"

"I can't be cheery?"

"Not after you've just gotten out of Lebaum's class. You always walk in here as if you've just attended a funeral."

"Well, that would be because I just aced his test! Whoo! A ninety-eight, baby, yeah!" I whooped, pumping my fists in the air and earning curious stares from customers.

"Okay, girl, tone it down," Riley said.

"Sorry, but the reason why I'm so stoked is now I'll be able to enjoy my weekend." I squealed. "Oh, my gosh, I'm so excited!"

"Geez, what exactly are you doing this weekend that you're so hype about?"

"Quit playing dumb, Riley. You know what we're doing this weekend," I said.

"Um… shopping…?"

"What? No, girl, we're going to the movies," I replied, frowning.

"Really, the movies? What are we watching?" Riley asked, stirring her coffee.

"Okay, why are you forgetful all of a sudden? Tomorrow, we're going to see the new installment of the Transformers movie," I reminded her. Riley stared blankly, bringing the cup to her mouth and sipping it. "What's with the blank look?"

"First of all, I don't recall making such plans with you. And, second of all, what's Transformers? New installment? I don't even remember the first one."

"What are you—?"

"Hold on a sec," Riley said, pulling out her vibrating phone and checking the screen. "I need to take this. I'll be back," she said, getting up and heading for the exit.

Before I could respond, she was already out the door.

"That was… weird. What did she mean, 'what's Transformers'?" I muttered, taking out my phone and accessing the internet, typing in 'Transformers' in the Google search box. My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when the results popped up. _Hey, where… where are the Transformers?!_

The only transformer the results showed was the electrical device, but this wasn't possible. I literally looked up times for the movie yesterday! How…?! Why…?! Was I… was I being punk'd? I glanced toward the entrance where I could see Riley standing outside, talking excitedly on the phone, and narrowed my eyes.

_She had to take that phone call, huh? I bet she's speaking with her co-conspirator about what an awesome prank they just pulled. Yes, it was brilliant. Riley played dumb to throw me off and someway, somehow made all the results on Transformers disappear. I bet this Safari app isn't really the Safari app! It would not be the first time Riley messed with my phone to mess with me._

I clicked through several more pages in search of the alien robot franchise, but came up empty.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that," Riley spoke, startling me. "And sorry about _that_," she snickered, sliding into her seat.

"Uh-huh. Are you also sorry about punking me? I'm not going to lie, it's a pretty neat prank. How'd you get rid of all the Transformers results? I mean, seriously, I'm on page ten and still nothing! Did you hack my phone again? This isn't really Safari, is it? It's an app that's supposed to look and act like Safari, but it's not, right? How'd you do it? Did you—"

"Whoa, Speed Racer, could you slow down? You lost me at… everything. The heck are you talking about?" Riley asked, her thin brown eyebrows pulled down in confusion.

"Your prank! You pulled a prank on me. You played dumb about our Saturday plans and then someway, somehow got Safari to omit the Transformers results—"

"There you go with this Transformers crap again. Look, I don't know what the heck you're talking about. I didn't pull any prank on you. I don't have time for that. In fact, I have to get going," Riley said, draining the rest of her coffee and tucking her payment and tip beneath the cup before standing to her feet.

"What? Where are you going? We didn't even order yet," I said.

"I know, but that phone call just now was one of my classmates from sociology. I'm meeting up with my group for this huge project we have to complete in that class. It's due Monday, and we haven't even started with the research part, yet. You have fun with your Transformers business, okay?" Riley said, moving toward the exit.

"Riley, wait! What about tomorrow?!" I called after her.

"I wouldn't have been able to go to the movies anyway. Like I just told you: big sociology project. It tends to take up your time, you know? Bye!"

Riley stepped outside, and I sighed, turning back around and studying my phone's screen. So… if it wasn't a prank, then how was it there wasn't even a trace of the Transformers on the internet…?

"Hello, ma'am, my name is Dana, and I will be your waitress. What can I get for you?" a young woman asked, her notepad out and pen poised over the pad.

"Uh…." How about a reality check? I wasn't dreaming, was I? "Can I have a small caramel cappuccino and the apple turnover, please?" I asked.

"Okay, I'll be back with your order," Dana said, beaming brightly at me before ripping out the paper.

* * *

Throughout class, I struggled paying attention because my mind persistently wandered to the fact the Transformers franchise had been wiped from existence. How was that even possible? It really had me questioning things, like, if life was real. Seriously, how did a franchise just end up disappearing, and why the heck was I the only person aware of this spectacular fact? It was like one of those stories I would read on FanFiction.

So, what, did that mean I was some character in a story? Has my whole life been the construction of some person's imagination? Was I not real?! These thoughts plagued my mind to the point I had to leave class early. I'd get the notes from someone later.

* * *

I entered my dorm room only to nearly run back out when an atrocious smell practically smacked me in the face. I clamped a hand over my nose, frantically searching for the source of the offending odor when I found it. A bowl of lasagna gone bad sat moldy and green beneath my roommate Dawn's bed.

"Oh, for the love of—I think I'm gonna be sick," I spoke between breaths, limiting the amount of breaths I took.

I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and held my breath as I disposed of the rotten food and dumped the bowl in the kitchen sink, squeezing a more than generous amount of soap into the bowl. Once I finished cleaning, the door opened and Dawn entered, chatting loudly on the phone.

"Yeah, I know, uh-huh… uh-huh. I _know_, right? Oh, hey, Olivia," Dawn greeted curtly before bursting into laughter as she strode toward our room. "Get out! He said _that_?!"

I growled quietly, angrily removing the gloves and tossing them in the bin as I ran for our room.

"Dawn, we need to talk. Now," I said, crossing my arms and glaring at my roommate, who lay in bed.

"Are you blind or just rude? Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Dawn snapped.

"I don't friggin' care! I found a gross present left by yours truly. What is _wrong_ with you?! Who keeps food under their _bed_?!"

"Geez, calm down, you act as if I left it under _your_ bed."

"Seriously?! Are you actually _serious_ right now?!"

"Hey, Steven, I'll have to call you back, my roommate's being a—"

"Goodbye, Steven!" I shouted.

"What's your problem? Who gets all uptight about spoiled food? It's not like it spilled on your side—"

"Stop talking. Just stop. It is infuriating how you cannot see you're so clearly in the wrong. And it's not just the spoiled food. It's the laundry, and the fact that when it's our turn to clean _I'm_ the one doing all the work—you're the worst roommate ever!"

"You're not perfect yourself!" Dawn snapped back, jumping to her feet.

"No, I'm not perfect, but at least I'm not gross."

Someone banged loudly on our door, snapping our attention towards the door.

"Hey! Keep it down! People are trying to study!"

I opened the door to reveal our fellow suitemate and next door neighbor, Cathy, who glared with obvious annoyance.

"I have three tests and a paper due Monday, so I would kindly appreciate it if you could argue somewhere else," Cathy snapped.

"Olivia started it! She's always—"

"I don't give a crap, Dawn. Either take it somewhere else or keep it down."

And with that, Cathy stalked back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

"Ugh, whatever, I'm leaving," Dawn said, grabbing her phone and purse.

_If only for good,_ I thought, scowling. "That's fine. Expect a meeting with Drew," I said, referring to our RA.

Dawn didn't reply, brushing past me and out the door. I slammed the door after her and hopped up and down in burning frustration. Dawn was _the_ worst roommate I ever had. From the very beginning, I knew we'd have a rocky relationship. The girl was beautiful but disgusting. Truly, one would not think someone as attractive as Dawn would have such a vile side (and I was not speaking of her personality though it's about as unpleasant as her sanitary habits). I so desperately wanted my own place but alas, I lacked a job.

I plopped at my desk in a huff, having finished releasing my frustration and fury and powered on my laptop. Checking my school's email, I found several emails waiting to be read. All except one were announcements about upcoming events at PCU, which immediately, I trashed. My pointer hovered over the remaining email where the subject read 'Barnes &amp; Noble's Writing Contest!' Out of curiosity, I opened the email and scanned its contents.

_Blah blah blah submit an original story, blah blah blah grand prize winners, blah blah bl—wha—?! First place wins fifty grand?! Holy—!_

I reread the sentence where the first place winner received fifty thousand dollars as well as the opportunity to publish their story with West House, a top-notch publishing company. I couldn't care less about the publishing aspect of the reward; my brain was still processing the fifty grand.

_With that kind of money I can move out! Fifty grand will certainly support me for the rest of my college life if spent wisely._

My hands flew across the keyboard as I entered my information and sent the form, a giddy, almost desperate, feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. I needed to win this. I _had_ to win this. For the sake of my health and sanity. I've won several writing contests in elementary, middle and high school and though I didn't always win first place, I've never _not_ won a reward.

"Okay, let's get started," I exhaled, accessing Word and opening a new document.

* * *

"It's too hard!" I whined, slumping in my seat.

I stared despondently at the blank word document displayed so brightly on my screen, glancing at the lower corner to find it was seven in the evening. I had been sitting at the computer for two hours, wracking my brain for a decent idea but none came to me. The contest concluded at the end of the month of November, which gave me eight weeks to think of a story, write it, proofread it and edit it. I was a notorious procrastinator, but when it came to money, I could easily kick the habit. I stared blankly at the slowly blinking cursor before minimizing the window.

_Ugh, I need a break,_ I thought, sighing heavily.

I got up and stretched, trudging over to my mini refrigerator and opening it, searching for anything to snack on. The inside was pitiful, consisting of a lone orange, two small containers of strawberry yogurt and a Snickers bar (yet another reason I must win that cash prize!). I shrugged, grabbing the Snickers bar and slamming the fridge closed, nibbling on the candy bar while returning to my seat.

_Forget it. I'll have to do this some other time,_ I decided, closing out of Word.

I opened my Tumblr blog and groaned when I remembered Transformers no longer existed. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten about the Transformers issue. My dashboard would be covered in all things Transformers. I had gifs, imagines, fan art—heck, the reason why I had so many followers was because of my awesome Transformers page but now it was all gone… including my three hundred followers! I sighed loudly, resting my head on the desk. What a shame for the world to lose such an awesome franchise. Dang it, I _knew_ I should have seen the fourth movie last week, but no, I had to be a lazy bum, didn't I? And now I'll never get to see it! I banged my head several times on the desk when suddenly a thought popped in my head.

_Wait one second…. I'll never see the new Transformers movie…. I'll never see it because it no longer exists, but… what if I could fix that?_

I snapped my head up, accessing Word and opening a new document. Since it appeared the franchise had been wiped from existence as well as everyone's memory of it with the exception mine, perhaps I could bring it back somehow. My fingers danced across the keyboard as I typed out the introduction of the first Transformers film. I've watched the first film so many times, I believed I could literally recite every line in my sleep. Okay, not true, but I really did watch it over a dozen times so, writing out the scenes and characters were no problem. Sure, one would view my actions as wrong, claiming someone else's work as my own, but how could one steal something that no longer existed? See? So, I was in the clear. Besides, I believed it was my duty to reintroduce the awesome franchise back into the world.

I finished writing the first three chapters, which took me a good four hours, but I was giddy and satisfied with my work. I was nowhere near done, but now I no longer had anxiety about needing to think of a good idea and plot; one that would certainly win me fifty thousand dollars. I smirked, eyeing my incomplete work.

_If this doesn't win me first prize, I don't know what will._


	3. Only Idiots Believe in Aliens

**Author's note: oh, my gosh, I've gotten soo many follows and favorites that it's an actual record for me. I literally did not think people would be interested in such a story! It was just an idea I had floating for months until I decided to finally write it. I thank Jesus for all those read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story! Thanks sooo much guys :D Okay, so fair warning, I am completely unfamiliar with the cartoons and so would be using Wikipedia to help with that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Characters maybe OOC. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: ****Only Idiots Believe in Aliens**

"Do you believe alternate universes exist?" I asked.

Riley's green eyes narrowed as if I just asked her an offensive question. We sat in the school's coffee shop at our usual table, the store uncharacteristically uncrowded for a Friday afternoon. It was midterm week, more likely explaining the low number of customers. Riley stirred her coffee, eyes still narrowed, as she gauged my curious expression, probably wondering if I was pranking her or not.

Not detecting any obvious signs of mischief, Riley blurted, "What?"

"Do you believe in the existence of alternate universes?"

"Of course not. Do you?"

_Maybe,_ I answered silently, taking a slow bite of my apple turnover.

It's been three weeks since all things Transformers were erased, and I still couldn't get use to the jarring fact. I had several theories: a super virus, a wish made upon a star, or this being an alternate universe. Granted, my theories were fantastical (though the last one sounded the most plausible), but then again, this entire situation was fantastical.

Every day, I checked the internet for any returning signs of the missing franchise, but came up empty every time. Sometimes, I wondered if it was smart of me to enter the Transformers' story in the contest because if I won, the story would be published for the world to see. What if I wasn't the only person with retained memories of the franchise? In a world of more than seven billion people, surely, I could not possibly be the only one aware of this miraculous occurrence. However, if this _was _an alternate universe, then I could buy that though, if true, it begged the question: how the hell did I end up in this universe?

"I don't know…. We can't definitively say it's not possible, right?" I said. "Just like how we can't definitively say aliens don't exist. There's so much we don't know or understand—"

"You're right, I suppose." Riley shrugged.

"You still write fanfiction, right?"

"I haven't written any lately, but yeah."

"What if… what if the stories you've written, the characters, the plot… what if they were real? Like that movie 'Stranger than Fiction'."

Riley stared blankly, her cup paused in the air. It was the same blank expression she wore when I mentioned Transformers. Oh, no, has Stranger than Fiction also been wiped from existence?!

"Livvy, just what is going on with you? Ever since that day you spouted nonsense about Transformers, you've been acting… weird…. I mean, what, are you hearing some disembodied voice narrating your every move or something?" Riley asked, frowning.

Oh, thank God, Stranger than Fiction still existed. Whew. Did not need that right now.

"No, no, I'm just… just thinking of writing a story with that idea," I lied.

Riley quirked an eyebrow, her expression stating she didn't believe me. "Really? A story similar to Stranger than Fiction? For what, the B&amp;N contest?"

"No, no. I just…." I scratched my head, unsure of how to continue. Drat. Now, I was appearing increasingly suspicious and stupid for zero reason. "Look, let's just drop it. You know me, I have no brain-mouth filter," I said, shrugging while smiling sheepishly.

Riley stared at me strangely before shrugging. "Okay, if you say so. How's it going with your story? Is it almost finished?" Riley asked.

"Yup, just a few more chapters to go," I answered.

It was the last week of October with four weeks remaining before the writing contest ended. Riley offered her help of proofreading and editing, which I accepted gratefully since she performed those tasks better than me. We finished our meals before paying and leaving for our next class.

* * *

I trudged into my room where Dawn lay in bed with her boyfriend, Steven, the TV blasting while the two made out.

_Blech,_ I thought, stifling a sigh.

I couldn't very well tell them to get a room, since technically they had. I hurried to my desk, quickly collecting my laptop and textbooks and shoving them in my backpack.

"Oh, 'sup, Liv," Steven greeted.

"It's Olivia," I corrected curtly, slinging the bag over my shoulder. "Only my friends call me Liv."

"Well, I'm sure we could be friends if you weren't such a stuck-up witch all the time," Steven said to which Dawn snickered.

"No, that's okay, Steven. I have all the friends I need," I said, heading for the door.

_"Okay, I saw it. The UFO landed right here and now it's gone. My moped's under there man! Who's going to pay for that?!"_

I froze at the man's high-pitched whine blaring from the TV.

"Let's change the channel. The news is so depressing," Dawn said, raising the remote when I stopped her.

"Wait, wait!" I said, rushing to Dawn's side of the room where her slim 30-inch flat screen TV sat on a drawer facing Dawn's bed.

In high-definition, fierce fires roared among crumbling debris as a newscaster woman reported on the disaster.

"What… what happened?" I asked softly.

"Nobody really knows. Some are saying it's meteors, others are claiming the military's involved and still others are swearing it's aliens," Dawn snorted.

"Only idiots believe in aliens," Steven said, kissing the top of Dawn's head.

"Right?" Dawn agreed, snickering.

Without a word, I dipped out of the room to the bewilderment of Dawn and Steven, who shared wondering glances with each other.

"Your roommate's weird," Steven said.

"And rude," Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

I rushed out into the suite lounge and plopped onto the worn gray couch as I hurriedly pulled out my laptop and powered it on. All the while, I was a nervous mess, my brain repeating the same line: _It can't be. It can't be. It can't be. It can't be._ Quickly, I typed in my password and immediately went to Google where I typed in 'meteors, aliens, military,' and punched enter. In a flash, the results popped up, the first result of an article by CNN, and my chest tightened as I clicked on the link.

Did I really need to investigate? I knew the truth, didn't I? Still, my eyes scanned every text, every line, careful not to miss anything, and once I finished reading, I read it again. And again. And again. And again until I could basically recite the entire piece. I leaned back in mute wonder mixed with horror as I quietly closed my laptop and sat there for a long moment.

"Olivia?"

"Gah!" I screamed, nearly shooting off the couch at the sudden noise.

"Geez!" Dawn cried, grabbing her chest and glaring. "What the hell?! Chill down, it's just me."

"S-Sorry," I mumbled, shoving my laptop back into my bag.

"Hey, you all right, D?" Steven asked, appearing by his girlfriend's side.

"Yeah, this one over here nearly gave me a heart attack," Dawn said.

"Because you gave _me _a heart attack!" I said.

"I just came to check up on you. You dipped out of the room in a hurry. Was it the news?"

Dawn crossed her arms, appearing genuinely concerned, which confused the heck out of me. Dawn wasn't the type to care for others' well-being (if she did, she'd fix that hygiene issue of hers). So, to see my roommate worried for me touched my heart.

"Uh, yeah, it was, um, pretty unnerving," I admitted.

"I know, right? But I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, no one got hurt, so that's good, right?" Dawn pointed out.

"Of course. Yay for no injuries," I said, pumping my fist. Steven and Dawn stared at me strangely for a moment before I cleared my throat, standing to my feet. "I'm gonna head for the library; huge exam tomorrow," I said, strolling quickly out the suite without waiting for a response.

"Your roommate's weird," Steven stated.

"Yes, Steven, you said that already," Dawn said, returning to her room.

* * *

I always had a sneaking suspicion this would happen. It was like someone's fanfic came to life, and I was the main character. I could just imagine the summary: 'Journalist student Olivia Daniels wakes one day to discover her beloved Transformers wiped from existence, except not really when she learns she's living out the movie!'

Oh, please, let it not be.

I sat alone in a corner table on the fourth floor of the library, reading a week-old news article about an attack on a US military base in Qatar. There were no survivors, or so they believed, but I knew better. That whole alternate universe theory sounded better and better. I closed my eyes, reminiscing the previous day this whole fantastical event happened. I wracked my brain for anything unusual that happened that day, but nothing stood out. It was a completely uneventful day.

I was freaking out about Lebaum's exam, and posted a new fanart on Tumblr to calm my nerves after which Riley called to ask what time we'd leave for the movies Saturday. I looked up the times and told her eight o'clock since the movie had a long runtime, and she agreed and hung up, and then… nothing. That's it. That's all I could friggin' remember; as I said, the entire day was unremarkable.

I banged my head against the table, groaning aloud. And what about my story?! If the Transformers really did exist as real characters now, I couldn't very well go and write about them, now could I? If the film's events played out in real life, which appeared to be the case, and my story containing those same exact events were published, I'd have a lot of explaining to do. I wasn't just referring to the government demanding how I'd obtain my information, but the public, too.

It'd just be one gigantic, dramatic mess.

I pulled up my story, staring dully at the bold title: In Plain Sight. It sounded appropriate enough. I mean, the Transformers were the epitome of hiding in plain sight. Damn it all! All those hours hunched over my laptop, working late in the night to sometimes early morning—gone! Just like that! I was so pissed, I could chuck my laptop out the friggin' window and hoped it hit someone so they could feel even an ounce of my pain. Yeah, it was that serious. I packed up my belongings and opted taking the stairs over the elevator so I could release my ever-growing frustration through exercise.

The first floor of the library stood almost empty with only a handful of people scattered among the computers and a lone woman sitting in the lobby, talking quietly on the phone. Marching through the small lobby, I stopped just outside the door and set my bag down so I could slip on my jacket.

"It's still plagiarism," someone hissed. I glanced back to see the woman had her back turned to me as she spoke in whispers. "So what if you changed the words? Did you credit the person? Then, it's still plagiarism."

I slipped my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out into the cool October night, hurrying down the ramp and cutting across the quad towards the dorm buildings. I'll admit, in high school, I was guilty of plagiarism when completing essay assignments by substituting a few words and claiming the work as my own. My teachers were none the wiser. I halted in my steps, a streetlamp flickering on above me—the perfect imagery of an idea occurring to me.

I could just alter the story.

I exhaled sharply as I set off at a run toward my dorm building, a big grin on my face. The alterations wouldn't be anything major; just enough to throw people off. Names of characters, locations, even personalities—I could change them all and avoid suspicion. It was brilliant! Blessed brain, you struck again! When I returned to my room, I found it empty, and silently thanked God as I immediately went to work on editing. It was going to be a long night.

Good thing it was Friday.


	4. It's Official

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Characters may be OOC. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: It's Official**

"Olivia… Olivia…!"

"Huh?!" I snapped my head up, blinking several times, the entire world unfocused until I rubbed my eyes. "What…?" I blinked some more, finding myself hunched over my desk where my laptop sat opened, displaying my story. The jingling of keys beside me alerted me to someone's presence, and I turned to find, "Riley? What the—what time—"

"It's one in the afternoon," Riley interrupted. "I called you like a dozen times."

"Sorry, sorry," I muttered, shaking away the fogginess of sleep and yawned.

"Those are the same clothes you were yesterday. Did you really fall asleep at your desk? What were you working on?" Riley asked, narrowing her eyes at my computer screen, but I snapped it shut.

"It's my story for the writing contest," I answered, standing and groaning at the stiffness of my entire body, my back especially hurting bad.

"Wow. You really want that first place prize, huh?" Riley asked, snickering.

"Duh, you know this. You know why I need that money," I said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Riley said, jabbing a thumb towards Dawn's overflowing small trash bin and clothes strewn across the carpet.

"You see?! She has no manners!"

"There's people with no class, and then there's Dawn," Riley snickered. "You wanna grab lunch together?"

"Yes, please. Just give me twenty minutes," I said.

"Sure thing, girl. I'll be out in the suite," Riley said before leaving the room.

I reopened my laptop, saving the story before shutting down the computer and exhaling sharply. It took all night, but I finished the revisions, highly satisfied with them, too although I didn't have the heart to change the names of the Transformers. I just couldn't! The fangirl in me wouldn't allow me to do such a thing. It was almost blasphemous.

Now, yes, I knew by keeping the Transformers' names, I was undoubtedly setting myself up for trouble, but that was sort of the point. By revising everything else, except the names of the Transformers, I avoid public scrutiny. I'd only have the government to deal with, and although the idea terrified the flippin' crap out of me, the prospect of possibly meeting the Autobots outweighed that fear.

Now, this all only happened if I won first place, of course. So, now I had double the motivation to win the contest. I quickly washed up and changed into fresh clothes, grabbing my purse and locking the door behind me before joining Riley in the suite where she sat on the couch, playing on her phone.

"You ready?" she asked, pocketing her phone.

"Yup. Let's go."

After lunch with Riley, I visited the library so I could finish my story. I skipped up the stairs to the fourth floor, finding it deserted to my delight as I parked myself at a corner table and unpacked my laptop.

"Okay, let's do this!" I muttered, cracking my knuckles

* * *

"And… done!" I sighed dramatically, leaning back in my chair and stretching my arms above my head. After working four hours straight, I finally completed the concluding chapter of my story and emailed it to Riley. I dialed Riley's number, reporting the good news. "I sent it to your email. Thanks again for helping me."

"Yeah, no problem! I'll get started right away!" Riley promised. "Did you see the news today?"

My stomach tightened at Riley's question. Yesterday, after discovering the Autobots' arrival to Earth, I googled Mission City since I knew the area would soon become a battlefield. I was fairly certain Mission City never existed pre-Transformers disappearance, but I found it, located one hundred miles north of here. So, if it wasn't official before, it was now: Transformers had come to life. I could only assume the news involved Mission City since the battle more than likely transpired given the late hour.

"No, I hadn't seen the news. What happened?" I asked.

"A city north of us was attacked."

"Attacked? As in terrorism?" I asked, feigning shock.

"That's what I thought at first, but they're saying it was a government experiment gone wrong."

"Government experiment?" I repeated skeptically.

"Fishy, right?"

"Yeah, very much so. Did they say what it was exactly that attacked the city?"

"Not really, no. The news was so vague that I swear it's a cover-up. I smell a story," Riley said.

_Already on it, girl, _I thought, smiling faintly. "Oh, yeah, there's definitely something up," I agreed.

"Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll try finishing proofreading and editing your story by next week, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks, Riles," I said before hanging up.

Okay, so the battle of Mission City was over and done with. Awesome. That concluded the first film's events, so now what? Would this be life as I knew it now? Would I forever be living in the world of Transformers? I couldn't decide if that was the best or worst thing ever.

* * *

A week later, Riley finished with my story, gushing over it and praising its plot and characters. It was funny, too, because the same compliments and praise she gave me matched her glowing review of the first Transformers movie. Hey, this meant I did a pretty dang good job writing the first film. Sweet. After checking the story over one final time, I sent it in, my heart racing a mile a minute.

_It's done…. Now, we wait._

It would be a long while before the winners were announced but still every day I checked my school email for the email that would decide my fate. Okay, yes, I knew I sounded dramatic, but if you had a roommate as despicable as Dawn, you wouldn't think so. Before I knew it, winter break had arrived, and it was time to pack for home.

"You entered a writing contest?" Mom asked, helping me load my luggage in the back of her silver van. "I didn't think you still entered those."

"Yeah, well, B&amp;N is offering fifty grand to the first place winner," I said.

"Fifty thousand dollars? Dear me, that is a lot of money," Mom muttered, shutting the trunk. "So, could I read this story of yours? It's been a while since I've read your stories."

"Sure," I said, nodding.

It's been a month since the arrival of the Autobots and the subsequent battle of Mission City. Every few days, I'd search the internet concerning the alien robots, curious if the results changed—they didn't. The news was quiet, too. Nothing unusual happened after the battle of Mission City, which I expected. It'll probably be a while before the Decepticons wreaked havoc again.

* * *

This was it—the moment of truth. It was Christmas morning, and the first thing I did was check my school email to find a lone email waiting for me with the subject 'Barnes &amp; Noble's Writing Contest Results.' My fate rested in the contents of this email. If I failed to attain first place, I'd have to suffer through another five months of rooming with Her Grossness; but the most depressing of all would be failing to meet my favorite characters.

_Here goes,_ I thought, clicking on the email and waiting as the blue busy cursor spun and spun and spun and spun….

No, please, computer, take your time; take all the friggin' time in the friggin' world. It's only my _life_ hanging in the balance. Still, the cursor spun and spun, leaving me dangerously close in smashing the laptop to pieces until finally, the page changed and in large bold letters, read the headline, 'Congratulations! You are our first place winner!' I screamed, jumping up from my seat and running around my small bedroom.

"Olivia?" Mom called, knocking on my door. I flung it open, enveloping her in a tight bear hug. "Wh-What on earth—?"

"I'm rich! I'm rich!" I chanted, hopping up and down.

"Huh? Rich?"

"Yeah, remember that contest I entered? First place wins fifty grand, and I got first place, baby!"

"Dear, that's so great!" Mom cheered, joining me in hopping when Dad ambled toward us bleary-eyed.

"What's with all the shouting?" Dad asked, yawning.

"Your daughter just won fifty thousand dollars!" Mom told him.

That woke him up.

"From the contest?! You won?!"

"I won!"

Our cheers and laughter probably woke the neighborhood, but we weren't caring (come on, would you?). Once I calmed down, I called Riley, telling her the incredible news. The girl practically blew out my ear drums with her shrill screams.

"Oh, my gosh, Livvy, this means your story's going to get published! And by _West House_!" Riley screamed again, and I quickly pulled the phone away from my ear, wincing. "Livvy, soon the whole country, no, the _world_ will read your story!"

"Wait, the _world_?" I repeated, frowning.

"Yeah, West House publishes internationally. Oh, my gosh, this is so exciting! My best friend's going to be a published author!" Riley went on speaking, but my mind wandered elsewhere. The world, huh? My goal of reintroducing the Transformers franchise would certainly be possible if my story was published worldwide. "Heck of a Christmas present, huh?" Riley asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd sure say so."

Once I finished talking with Riley, I sat in front of my laptop and finished reading the rest of the email. Someone named Carly Singletary would call me to set up an interview after which I would receive the cash prize and discuss publishing my story. I leaned back, grinning widely as I relished in the delightful thought in not only terminating my residence in the dorms but also possibly meeting the Autobots!

* * *

A week later, a young Caucasian woman, appearing a few years my senior, arrived to the house, dressed in a slimming black suit and matching five-inch heels. Behind the woman, stood a tall, lanky fellow carrying a bulky camera on his shoulder.

"Hello, are you Miss Olivia Daniels?" the woman asked, smiling brightly as I stepped aside to allow her passage into my home.

"Yes, I am, and you're Mrs. Singletary?" I asked.

"It's Ms. Singletary, but you can call me Carly. Congratulations on winning the contest."

"Thank you," I said, cheesing.

"Yes, I must say it's the most interesting story I've read all year. Ever since I read your story, I've never looked at vehicles the same. Talk about hiding in plain sight. Nice title, by the way," Carly said.

"Thank you."

I glanced toward the man who had the camera trained on me.

"This is Harold. He will be filming our interview," Carly said.

"Wait, film?"

No one said anything about this! If I had known this interview would be filmed, I certainly would have put more thought in my outfit. I went for the casual look, sporting a blue pin-striped long-sleeved shirt, dark denim jeans and matching dark blue Converses. I nervously tugged at my loose short ponytail, debating if I should hang it down.

"Oh, darling, don't look so nervous. You look lovely, just lovely. Doesn't she, Harold?" Carly asked, turning to Harold who shot a thumbs up my way.

Well, if Harold said so, then it must be fine.

"Are you sure? I can do a quick change," I practically pleaded.

"No, no, we're already behind schedule. Trust me dear, you look great. Now, I'd prefer to do the interview in the family room, is that okay?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, follow me."

I led the way into the small sitting room where Carly strode towards the center while inspecting the area.

"Okay, Harold, stand over there, and Olivia, you and I will sit here." Carly directed everyone to their specified spots and glanced over at Harold. "You ready?" Another flash of thumbs up and Carly turned to me, a bright smile enhancing her attractive features. "Are _you_ ready, Olivia?" I nodded silently, my mouth suddenly drying up on me. "Perfect. Okay, and in three, two…. Hello, my name is Carly Singletary, and I am here with this year's Barnes &amp; Noble's contest winner, Olivia Daniels."

I turned toward the camera, forcing a grin and waving stiffly. _Say something, you idiot! Don't just wave like some fool!_ "Hello," I spoke barely above a whisper and cleared my throat, trying again. "Thank you for having me." _Good, good, you're doing well, _my inner self said approvingly.

"So, Olivia, how does it feel to be a published author, especially at so young an age? How old are you?" Carly inquired.

"I'm twenty years-old, and truthfully, I'm not feeling any different. I mean, I know it's going to take a while before my book will reach shops. So, I guess until the day I see my book in a bookstore, I'll remain indifferent," I answered.

"Well, Olivia, that day may come sooner than you think. I brought you a present." Carly retrieved from her purse a medium rectangular-shaped object wrapped in shimmering golden paper and held it out to me. "I know Christmas is over, but…."

I took the gift, studying Carly's gleeful expression before flicking my eyes to Harold who wore the same impassive expression. I unwrapped the gift, my heart nearly stuttering to a stop when I realized the gift was a book. But not just any book.

"This is…!"

Carly giggled, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Yes, Olivia, that's your book!"

I gaped at the paperback cover. It was the first film's movie poster! It was exactly the same: Optimus in the middle with Bumblebee and Megatron flanking his side while, below them, a sepia-toned city spread behind Sam, Mikaela and Lennox.

_Is that actually Shia LaBeouf, Megan Fox and Josh Duhamel?! How the hell did they manage that?!_

"As you can see, Olivia, here is struck speechless—"

"How did you get the actors for the picture?" I interrupted Carly, my eyes still glued to the cover.

"Actors?" Carly repeated, furrowing her pencil-thin eyebrows in bewilderment.

"Yeah, Shia LaBeouf, Megan Fox and Josh Duhamel. How'd you get them to be on my cover?" _How'd you get this cover, period?! I thought all things Transformers was erased?!_

So why the hell was my book cover the friggin' movie poster?! It even had the tagline: Their war. Our world. The only difference between the original movie poster and the book cover was the title. Instead of Transformers, it read _In Plain Sight_ in the same metallic heading.

"Um, I'm afraid I don't know any of those people," Carly said, the corners of her mouth twitching downward.

This was just too much. Was this woman seriously telling me Shia and the others no longer _existed_?! Okay, I was calling it; this was an alternate universe and absolutely _no one_ could tell me otherwise.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think I got confused," I said, shaking my head. "But wow, this cover looks just… I was not expecting this. So, uh, does this mean…?"

"Yes, as we speak, every Barnes &amp; Noble store is being stocked with your book! By this time next week, everyone will be able to purchase your book at any Barnes &amp; Noble!" Carly declared happily.

"No way! That's so fast!" I said.

"So, now it's safe to assume you're no longer indifferent?"

I nodded emphatically, still admiring the book. The rest of the interview finished without incident, the entire process taking thirty minutes.

"And that concludes this interview! You did well," Carly said, smiling and standing to her feet.

"Thanks," I said, tucking a loose black strand behind my ear. "So, do you think my book will sell well?"

"I can't definitively say, but personally I think it would sell decently enough," Carly said.

"Cool, cool," I said, nodding. "So, will this be on TV or something?" I asked, pointing at the camera.

"Not at all. It'll go on the company's Facebook page. It's sort of a promotional video for next year's contest, too. That's mainly why we do it," Carly explained. "Well, we'll be off now. Have a happy new year."

Carly and Harold headed for the main door with Harold nodding curtly when he passed me, still carrying the camera on his shoulder. I wished them a happy new years before shutting the door and releasing a heavy sigh. I trudged back into the living room where my book lay on the glass table and scooped it up, studying the glossy cover. I had some research to do.

* * *

Soon, school resumed for the spring semester, and I rented a one bedroom apartment five minutes away from the school, my parents helping me move in. Afterwards, I invited Riley to my place where we could order takeout and hang out.

"Lookie what I bought," Riley said, producing from her purse a copy of my book.

"No way! You bought it?!" I gasped.

"Yeah, girl! I still can't believe you're an official published author. Would you sign my book?" I giggled, retrieving a pen from my bedroom and signing the inside with a flourish. "Thanks," Riley said.

"No, thank _you_ for your support. I still can't believe B&amp;N published my book so quickly. Do you think it'll sell well?"

"Maybe. Ryan is loving it," Riley said, referring to her fifteen year-old brother. "I had left this book out on the kitchen island and when I went to get it, the kid was already three chapters in! You and I both know the only kind of books Ryan reads are comics. Seeing him read your book with such rapt interest, I think you have a bestseller on your hands."

"All because your brother reads it?" I asked, snickering.

"Hey, it's not impossible," Riley said, wiggling her eyebrows.

No, it certainly was not. In a world where a popular franchise disappeared only to reappear in an inconceivable way, and where famous actors became the actual characters they portrayed—literally anything was possible.

"You're right, Riles, it's not," I agreed, forcing a smile.


	5. The Car Talks!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Characters may be OOC. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Car Talks?!**

February 25, 2015

Dear Journal,

I know it's been a long while since I last journaled… like ten years long, but I'm starting up again because I'm in desperate need of a confidante. I can no longer keep this to myself. I tried telling Riley a few months ago, but I quickly realized it was a mistake because she started looking at me as if I was crazy, but rest assured, I am not, okay? I mean, I _feel_ as if I'm about to go insane, but I'm not quite there yet.

Okay, journal, so here it is: one of my favorite franchises, Transformers, disappeared sometime last October without rhyme or reason! Just poof! Gone! Or so I thought. Turns out the Transformers are alive and well, and I mean that literally. Yeah, that's friggin' right, there are real live alien robots living among us right now, and I'm the only person aware of this! Well, the only person not part of the film series. Anyways, before I found out the Transformers had come to life, I got the brilliant idea of reintroducing the franchise by writing a novel based on the first film and entering the story in a writing contest.

Awesome enough, I won. Yay me.

So, I did my part in reintroducing the Transformers. If the book was a flop, then I failed. Oh well, I still get fifty grand. But guess what? It isn't a flop; it's the exact opposite of a flop. Carly called me the other day, saying my book sold out within the first two weeks it hit the shelves. Isn't that crazy?! She said they're already printing additional copies.

Oh, but it doesn't stop there. Two weeks ago, I visited the local bookstore for a reading. I was super pumped because I've been to several readings and to think I'd be doing my own was surreal. Journal, there were so many people, I could've sworn the place was over-capacity, like seriously if a fire had broken out, we would have all died.

But it doesn't stop there. I've become a local celebrity. It's like everywhere I go, someone's always recognizing me and wishing to sign their book if they had it on them and take pictures with them. It's worse at school. I mean, I'm not complaining, but it does get a bit much. But, wait, it _still_ doesn't stop there. I've been invited to talk shows and radio shows. I've done interviews, book signings and readings. Would you believe all this happened in the past month? I feel like I barely have time to breathe, it's ridiculous; but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy every minute of it.

And with all the publicity the book is receiving, it's only a matter of time before the government and Autobots come searching for me, and I say, bring it on, baby! Whoo! Anyways, I'll be writing in you more often, journal, because as I said I'm in desperate need of a confidante, and you're it, so… yeah.

I shut the journal closed, locking it and tucking it away in my bedside drawer. Mom had given me the journal for Christmas when I was ten and had a key necklace made so I wouldn't lose the key. I touched the silver key, silently appreciating Mom's ten year-old gift before clicking off the bedroom lamp and settling into bed, ready to drift into dreamland.

* * *

March 15, 2015

Dear Journal,

Chevrolet made a commercial starring Bumblebee, and it's hilarious, too. Basically two goons come running out of a bank after just robbing it and carjacks Bumblebee. Bumblebee toys with them, making the goons think they've carjacked a demon-possessed car. He finally pulls up to a police station where the goons flee towards the police, all the while screaming about 'Satan's Camaro' (yes, yes, that line was in the movie and my book) and begging the police to take them in. I laugh every time it comes on TV. My fans seem to love the commercial, too.

Oh, yeah, that reminds me: the fandom is slowly, but surely returning. Yeah, there's already fan art and fanfiction, it's so crazy. My goal was to reintroduce the franchise, and I totally succeeded. I feel a tad guilty since I'm not the original author of these awesome characters, but it's easily squelched when I remember the original author literally has no clue that I 'stole' from him (I use quotations because I stand by the argument that one cannot steal something that no longer exists). Okay, I have to get going now. Tonight, Riley and I are going to the nightclub, Republic. It's _the_ hottest club in town and is impossible for normal people to get in. Fortunately, I'm no longer normal people… ;)

* * *

"This is going to be the best night of our lives, Riley!" I said, gleefully as I applied smoky purple eyeshadow to my right eye.

Riley and I were in my bathroom, applying the last finishing touches to our makeup as we prepared for our evening out.

"I still can't believe we're going to mother friggin' Republic, Livvy, and VIP, too!" Riley said, brushing a light layer of rosy blush to her cheeks. "You know what that means, right?"

"You're insulting the person who's inviting you to the hottest club in the city? Of course, I know what VIP means."

"No, I meant do you know what it means to be VIP? We'll be schmoozing with world-class celebrities! Doesn't the idea just make you tingle?"

I scrunched my nose at my friend's question. "Uh, not really. Personally, I just want to see how the other half party. It better not disappoint."

"Right?"

After we finished with our makeup, we grabbed our jackets and purse and headed into the warm night. As we trekked across the parking lot, I pressed the unlock button on my car keys, my car chirping happily and unlocking its doors.

"I still can't believe you bought a sports car," Riley said, shaking her head.

I couldn't either, but once I received my royalty check containing half a million dollars, I desired to splurge, so I did. Last week, I bought this bad boy, a sleek sunny yellow Chevrolet Stingray. In the second Transformers movie, Sideswipe's alt form had been the same car only silver. I was upset they hadn't included Sideswipe's twin brother, Sunstreaker. I mean, for crying out loud they were _twins_!

"Okay, let us be off!" I said, starting the car and driving off the lot.

"Whew! I cannot wait for you to get this baby on the highway," Riley said, rolling her window down.

"I know, right? This car was most certainly built for speed. Check it," I said, nodding toward the yellow traffic light.

Though thirty feet away, I slammed on the accelerator, the car revving forward with a gentle purr as it speedily ran through the light just as it turned red.

"Nice!" Riley whooped.

"Thank you. We stop for nothing!" I shouted.

_Whoop! Whoop!_ The telltale sound of a police car filled the air, the flashing lights pulsing in the rearview mirror.

"What?! Is this for real?!" I demanded, dismayed, as I pulled to the side and shifted to park. "I totally beat the light!" Beside me, I could tell, even in the murky lighting, Riley was trying her best not to laugh. "Riley, this isn't funny!" I snapped.

"I… I…."

Riley shook her head, turning away until finally she dissolved into peals of laughter.

"Riley!"

"I'm sorry, Livvy!" Riley spoke between giggles, placing a hand to her mouth. "It's just—"

More laughter burst from the girl as she propped her elbow on the window, cradling her head.

"It's seriously not that funny, and this cop is just being petty. I definitely made it through before the light turned," I grumbled. "What the hell's taking him so long?!"

"Calm down. He's probably running your license plate to make sure the car isn't stolen and that you have no outstanding warrants," Riley explained. "I've, uh, been pulled over a few times myself."

"Right," I sighed, glaring in the rearview when my body suddenly grew cold and all color drained from my face.

"Livvy, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost," Riley said, frowning.

I couldn't reply, my mouth hanging open in utter shock as I recognized the white mustachioed male officer as Barricade's hologram, but surely I was imagining things, right? Most likely, I was just projecting my fears. With all the fame, publicity, and buzz surrounding the book and myself, I figured I'd soon receive a visit from either the government or Autobots (or both), but my dumb self never considered possibly attracting the Decepticons, too.

_But it's not a Decepticon,_ I assured myself, watching the officer climb out of the Mustang—same make and model as Barricade, mind you—and started towards us grim-faced. I tightened my grip around the wheel, my heart rate accelerating and breathing hitching. Clearly, my body had entered fight-or-flight mode, and now I had to make a choice. Fight or fly the hell out of there? _Calm down,_ my inner self chided. _Look, if it's Barricade, he's approaching using a hologram, which means he cannot harm you directly… unless it's a holo_form_ then yeah, you're screwed. But that's okay because you're in the perfect getaway vehicle. I'm sure not even Barricade can compete with this speed demon._

"Livvy, it's going to be okay," Riley spoke gently. "Besides, even if the cop writes a ticket, money is no longer an issue with you," she said, nudging me, smiling, while wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ha, yeah," I scoffed lightly.

If only a ticket was my only concern.

The officer finally approached my window, and I rolled it down, smiling brightly at the man.

"Yes, officer?"

"License and registration," the man spoke gruffly.

Okay, so if this was in fact Barricade, then it's not a hologram; otherwise, he wouldn't be asking for my license. Grudgingly, I provided the requested items, and he glanced it over before flicking his brown eyes back to me.

"Step out of the car, ma'am," the officer said, stepping back.

"What? Why?" I demanded.

"Livvy," Riley whispered warningly. "Let's just do what he says." She grabbed the door handle when the locks clicked in place, and Riley whirled to me, eyes ablaze. "Livvy! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You just locked the door," Riley growled, pressing the unlock button, but the locks remained in place. "What the—?" Suddenly, the gear shifted forward to drive, and the car launched forward, leaving the cop behind in the dust. _"Ah! What the hell's happening?!"_ Riley screeched. "Livvy, are you—?!" Riley froze mid-sentence, her mouth agape as she witnessed something spectacular and horrifying: the wheel was moving on its own. "You're… you're not driving…?" Riley whispered, her eyes glued to the wheel, and I shook my head, staring bug-eyed as the car deftly wove through the lanes, the speedometer steadily inching upward.

Police sirens pierced the air, startling the both of us, and we glanced back to find the Mustang speedily gaining.

"Livvy, hit the brakes!" Riley commanded.

"I've been hitting the brakes this entire time! It's not working!" I shouted.

"Then take out the keys!" Riley screamed, yanking the key to no avail. "What the _hell_ kind of car is this?!" The car swerved around a line of vehicles stopped at a light, bursting through the red light and onto an intersection, narrowly missing clipping the tail end of a semi-truck. _"We're going to effin' die!"_ Riley screeched, latching onto my arm as the car maintained its dangerous speed and maneuvers.

"Would you stop with the yelling?! Can really do without the yelling," a male voice snapped, the sound filling the entire car.

Riley and I shared terrified, bewildered glances, wondering who the hell just spoke.

"And for your information, I know what I'm doing, so I'd appreciate it if you'd cooperate and not give me a hard time," the voice spoke again.

"Wait… the _car_ is talking?!" Riley said, gawking.

Could it be? Could it actually friggin be possible my car was an Autobot?!

"Aha, I knew it! That cop chasing us, it's Barricade, isn't it?!" I said, looking back to find the Decepticon still hot on our tail.

"Bingo, girl," the car confirmed.

"And you're an Autobot! You're Sunstreaker, aren't you?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have ourselves a winner!"

"Wait, pause, hold the freaking phone. Barricade?!_ Autobot?!_ Aren't those characters from your book?" Riley demanded.

"Yeah, except we're not characters, screechy," Sunstreaker replied.

Riley gaped, wide-eyed, her eyes growing even wider when I nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah, about that book of mine…. Every single thing that's happened in the book, happened in real life. You remember Mission City?" When Riley nodded mutely, I continued, "In my book, I changed the name to Center City. I changed all the names of people and location to decrease suspicion, and it's worked for the most part," I said, glancing back at the ever-relentless Decepticon.

"So… there really are alien robots who can transform into vehicles?" Riley asked quietly.

"Give this one a prize! Now, she's getting it!" Sunstreaker said.

"This isn't happening!" Riley wailed. "No, no! This can_not_ be happening!"

"There she goes crying again," Sunstreaker sighed.

"Screw you!" Riley snapped, kicking at radio, though that's not where the voice transmitted from. "Stop the car."

"What?! Riley, he can't stop. There's a killer robot chasing us."

"You want out? My pleasure."

Sunstreaker pivoted sharply to the right, cutting off two cars and zooming down a ramp, turning off the road and onto a construction site where he burst through a gate and drifted to a stop. Whipping around, the doors unlocked and swung open, allowing us freedom.

"Whoa, wait, I don't want—" Riley scrambled out of the car much to my dismay. "Riley!" I screamed, jumping out the car and chasing after the girl, who ran down a small dirt hill, not looking back. "Ri—ouch, damn it!" I cursed, my five-inch stiletto heel sinking into the dirt and nearly breaking my ankles.

Hurriedly, I unstrapped the heels when the ground rumbled beneath me, nearly toppling me over. Sunstreaker had transformed, standing in a readying stance as Barricade barreled toward him, transforming mid-air and tackling the Autobot.

"Oh, crap!" I screamed when the impact literally threw me off my feet and on my back, knocking the wind out of me. _"Oof!"_ I groaned, coughing at the clouds of dirt and sand kicked up by the wrestling robots.

Barricade growled in alien language as he effortlessly tossed Sunstreaker several feet away into a crane truck, the Autobot squashing the vehicle like a pancake. Barricade turned to me, and I shrieked, scrambling unsteadily to my feet and sprinting in the direction Riley ran. The ground buckled beneath the powerful running steps of the Decepticon as he gave chase, closing the distance in two gigantic steps and swinging his arm towards me, sending me flying several feet into the metal beams of an unfinished structure.

_"Agh!"_ I howled, tears springing to the surface as I lay on my back in unbelievable pain.

Immediately, I could feel my consciousness slipping from me, but I fought my best to hold on as I sat up only to emit an earsplitting scream at the hot, stinging pain shooting through my left arm, leaving me no doubt it was broken. I set my head back down, the agonizing pain a deterrent for any further movement and whimpered as Barricade slowly approached, looming over me, his blood red optics glowing hotly. At this point, I was quickly losing the battle of maintaining consciousness, the unbearable pain not helping, and fluttered my eyes closed, blacking out.

* * *

**Thanks again to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed my story! Constructive criticism is appreciated :)**

**Also I thank Jesus for granting me the grace and ability to write three chapters in one night! I'm pretty wiped now... .**


	6. Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs

**AN: I'm unfamiliar with Transformer lingo but I thank Pagen Godess for creating the Transformers Dictionary. It was very helpful. If any terms are used incorrectly or I overdid it, please correct me! Prepare yourself, it's a long one.  
**

**SunnySides: Lol yeah, that will definitely come up in the future chapters XD and no, commercial Bee didn't transform.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Characters may be OOC. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs  
**

"Ratchet, how's the girl?" Optimus asked the medic.

"Her left humerus is badly fractured, so she'll be sore for a while, but otherwise she's in decent shape," Ratchet replied.

"Way to protect the human, Sunny," Sideswipe said, lightly shoving his twin.

"Slag off, Sides! She should have ran like her friend," Sunstreaker growled.

"And you shouldn't have gotten your aft kicked so hard by Barricade," Sideswipe retorted.

"I beat him, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but it took you like three breems. I would've beaten him in one, maybe less."

"Ready to prove that?" Sunstreaker challenged, charging up his gun.

"Knock it off, you two. Now's not the time for your squabbles," Optimus said.

"Optimus, what about the other girl?" Ironhide asked.

"Well, according to Lennox, she's not talking until she sees her friend," Ratchet said.

"I doubt screechy knows anything, anyways," Sunstreaker said. "When Barricade stopped us, Olivia recognized him right away while her friend remained oblivious. Plus, when Olivia revealed the truth about her book, it was clear her friend didn't have a clue."

"Even so, we can't release her just yet," Lennox said, entering the room, carrying a slim folder while Epps followed after him.

"Am I the only one weirded out by the fact this Olivia person knew things she definitely couldn't have known?" Epps asked. "The things found in the book—from the attack in Qatar down to the location of the Allspark—it's as if she was there herself. I mean, for crying out loud, she knew things not even Sec. Def knew," Epps said, referring to Sector Seven. "How the hell did she learn about that?"

"That's one of the many questions we'll hit her with when she wakes," Lennox said.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're itching to ask how she got your picture and why it's on her front cover?" Epps snickered.

"Yeah, that is a little unsettling. The whole thing is unsettling," Lennox sighed.

"It's clear the girl's suspicious," Ironhide growled. "Perhaps she even works for the Decepticons."

"Easy, Ironhide. We can't determine anything until we speak to her," Optimus said.

"Can't we just wake her?" Sunstreaker demanded impatiently.

"Maybe if you had done a better job protecting the human—"

"Sides, I swear to Primus—"

"Just let the girl rest," Ratchet interrupted. "It's not like we're of any particular rush."

"Agreed. In the meantime, let's review the information we have on the girl," Optimus said, looking towards Lennox.

"Right." Lennox flipped through the many pages held in the manilla folder and started reading. "Olivia Daniels. Age 20. Junior student at Preston-Collins University, journalism major. Her record is spotless; not so much as a parking ticket."

"Oh, for the love of slag! Who the frag cares about such pointless crap?! I'm telling you, this would all just be much faster and more productive if we just woke the fraggin' femme up," Sunstreaker said, moving towards the exit.

"For Primus' sake, Sunny," Sideswipe sighed exasperatedly.

"Sunstreaker!" Optimus called sharply, freezing the bot in place. "You will leave the girl alone."

"But Optimus—!"

"Chill out, Sunny!" Sideswipe said, slapping his back. "The femme is sure to wake soon! Besides this wouldn't be an issue if you had just—"

"That's it!" Sunstreaker grabbed the hand resting on his back and twisted it.

"OW! Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Sideswipe howled before dropping into a roll and yanking Sunstreaker over his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. "I'm just saying, glitchhead, you were reckless. You're lucky Barricade didn't do a worse number on—ouch!"

Sunstreaker delivered a hard, swift kick to his twin's chest, effectively shutting up Sideswipe and shoving him off.

Sunstreaker raised a fist when Optimus bellowed sharply, "Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! That's enough!"

"You heard the boss," said Sideswipe, smirking.

Sunstreaker growled lowly, lowering his arm but not before flicking his twin in the forehead.

"Idiot," Sunstreaker grumbled, rising to his feet.

"Major Lennox, the girl is awake," an older female nurse reported, entering the room.

"Great, perfect; try not to kill each other before I get back," Lennox said before dashing out the room.

* * *

My eyes fluttered opened, a blinding white light filling my vision and further disorienting me. Am I dead? A bright white light signaled death, right? I blinked several times, each time clearing away the blurriness and bringing the world to focus where I found myself in a small room and lying in a narrow bed. I sat up, biting back a scream at the sharp pain shooting down my left shoulder and across my collarbone. I glanced down to find my left arm held in a black sling while my right wrist was handcuffed to the rail.

Oh, right. I had suspected I broke my arm when Barricade threw me clear across the site and into one of the metal beams. So, obviously, Barricade failed to kill me, which meant Sunstreaker won the battle. Awesome. So, now what? Was I now being held in some military base? And what about Riley? Hopefully, she managed to escape to safety. The door opened, interrupting my thoughts and a black woman in her forties entered, wearing scrubs.

"Oh, you're awake," the woman said, smiling.

"Uh, yeah, I am," I muttered, staring warily.

"Follow the pen with your eyes," the nurse instructed, producing a pen from her shirt pocket.

"Where am I?" I asked, following the pen as the nurse moved it in different directions.

"You're in a safe place," she answered.

"That didn't answer my question," I said.

"How's your pain? On a scale of 0-10, how would you rate it?" the nurse asked, returning the pen to her pocket.

"It's an eight. Now, can you please just answer my friggin' question and tell me where the heck I am?" I snapped, but the woman turned away, striding towards the door. "Wait, where are you going?!"

"I'll be back."

And with that, she left me alone, fuming.

"Damn it!" I cursed, yanking uselessly against the handcuff when an idea popped in mind.

_Pick it._

I searched my hair, silently thanking God as I pulled out a black bobby pin and stuck it between my lips. Inserting the pin in the cuff's keyhole, I worked quickly to release my wrist. I've never picked a lock in my life, but there's a first time for everything, right?

_Come on, come on!_ I pleaded when I heard it.

_Click!_ The handcuff snapped open, freeing my wrist, and I practically cried, but there wasn't any time for that. I sat up, stifling a scream as acute, agonizing pain shot down my left shoulder, but I refused to let it deter me. Moving quickly toward the door, I twisted the knob, the door opening with a haunting creak as I poked my head out into the hallway, finding it clear.

_Where can I go? If this is a military base, then there's no way I'll be leaving so easily… not unless I wanna get shot,_ I thought, sighing.

"Hello?!" a woman screamed angrily, startling me. _"Hello?!"_

_That's Riley!_ I thought gleefully.

And boy, did she sound pissed. I flinched at the string of obscenities floating through the hall and ducked in the direction my friend was held captive. I stopped outside a black metal door where Riley continued her rant inside. I gulped, whispering a quick prayer before opening the door and stepping inside. Riley was in the middle of pacing toward the far wall, her back to me when she heard the door open and whirled around, a scowl twisting her pale features.

"Finally! How long do you—?!" Riley stopped when she saw me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Livvy?"

"Riles, hey," I greeted sheepishly, quietly closing the door.

"Oh, my good—Livvy!"

Riley tackled me in a bear hug, weeping into my left shoulder.

"Ow! Hey, Riles, broken shoulder, broken shoulder," I reminded her, and she immediately stepped back.

"I'm so sorry! Oh, my gosh, your shoulder's broken?!"

Riley's eyes zoomed in on the black sling, her face awash with horror.

"Yeah… stupid Decepticon," I muttered. "Do you know how long we've been here? I didn't wake up until a few minutes ago."

"I have no idea, maybe three hours? I don't know," Riley sighed. "They wouldn't stop interrogating me. I told them I wasn't answering a word unless they took me to see you, but they refused so, I kept silent the entire time."

"Aw, you did? Nice to know you wouldn't narc out on me, even if it's the military," I said, grinning.

"Wipe the grin off your face, I'm still frickin' pissed at you. I can't believe you knew aliens existed this entire time and wrote a frickin' _book_ about it!"

"Well, in my defense, I wouldn't say I knew the _entire_ time. I didn't know about them until I was already almost finished with the book—"

"And Mission City! You knew exactly who was behind the Mission City attacks and wrote about that, too!"

"Yes, yes, everything single thing that's happened in the book has happened in real life," I said and Riley scoffed, turning away only to whirl back around, her eyes ablaze.

"Damn it, Livvy, I can't _believe_ you! What did you think would happen, huh? Did you really think you could write about these guys and _not_ expect them to come after you?! I mean, how did you even learn about these Autobots and Decepticons, anyway?"

Riley was practically foaming at the mouth, her eyes slightly red, a telltale sign she's been crying, while her hands remained clenched at her sides. With bloodshot eyes and face cleared of all makeup, Riley appeared fragile beneath the hot fluorescent beams, looking as if she'd break any minute. It pained my heart to see my best friend in such a state, especially since it was my fault I've gotten her into this mess.

"A-Actually, I was kind of hoping they'd come after me. The Autobots, not the Decepticons," I clarified.

"Well, now you got your wish. Are you frickin' happy?!" Riley shouted. When I failed to reply, this set the girl off. "Oh, my—you _are_ happy about this, aren't you?! We're locked up in God knows where, but who cares when you can meet some freaks from outer space! Are you frickin' _kidding_ me right now?!"

"Riles, calm down! I know you're upset but—"

"Upset? Hell no, girl, I'm _furious_. You knew about that snarky car of yours, didn't you? That it was an Autobot?"

"No, that was a pleasant surprise," I said.

"What the hell was his problem, anyway?" Riley snapped, scowling as she recalled Sunstreaker's comments.

"Would you believe that was him being nice?"

"I can't—"

The door burst open with a bang and several gun-toting men stormed inside, their guns pointed towards us.

"Whoa, whoa! I surrender! Please, don't shoot!" I pleaded, throwing up my right hand while Riley squealed, hiding behind me.

Nice, thanks Riles.

"You." The man leading the group pointed at me, beckoning me forward. "Let's go."

"Okay, cool. I'm going, but seriously, could we lower the guns? It's making me nervous."

"Let's go!" the man shouted.

I flinched, hurrying past him and out into the hallway where another man—Major William Lennox—stood waiting. Holy crap, he was more handsome in person.

"I must say Ms. Daniels, I really could have done without your disappearance act," Lennox said, frowning.

"Yes, I know, but please hear me out." Lennox crossed his arm while his brown eyes stared out at me expectantly. "Oh, you really will hear me out?"

"Well, that is why you're here. Follow me."

Lennox turned and started down the hall when Riley called after him.

"Wait, what about me?!" Riley shouted.

"Yeah, you should just let her go. She doesn't know anything," I said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Lennox said.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Okay, let me rephrase that: I'm afraid that's not possible right now. Listen, how about we talk first and then we can discuss your friend?" Lennox suggested.

I looked back towards the room where Riley sat at the table, arms crossed and glare stony.

"Okay," I said, nodding. "Don't worry, Riles, we'll get out of this, okay?"

Riley scoffed, shifting her glare to the side, and I sighed before following after Lennox down the long corridor.

* * *

"You're hungry, right?"

Lennox set a plate of chocolate chip cookies and donuts and a tall glass of milk in front of me, and I couldn't deny the pangs of hunger. I plucked up a glazed donut, easily polishing it off before reaching for a chocolate chip cookie.

"And here is your medication for the pain," he said, placing a small, clear plastic cup containing two round white pills next to the milk before sitting across from me of the rectangular silver table where a copy of my book lay in front of him.

We sat in a small room, the setting similar to the interrogation rooms found in police shows except without the one-way glass window. Lennox snatched up my book, holding it up so the front cover faced me, and I hurriedly gulped down the pills with the glass of milk while attempting to figure out how to answer the man's impending questions.

"This book of yours has gotten quite popular," Lennox said, studying the cover.

"Uh, yeah… have you read it?"

Lennox shot me a look, lowering the book. "There's no need to read it when I've already lived most of it," he said, setting the book back on the table and jabbing his finger on the cover. "How'd you get this picture?"

"Before I answer your question, I must ask you one: do you believe in alternate universes?"

"Alternate universes?" Lennox repeated, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. "No, of course not."

"Then, I'm afraid it's pointless to talk any further," I said, shrugging while breaking a cookie in half and dunking it in the glass of milk.

"Do you believe alternate universes exist?" Lennox asked.

"Yes, because it's the only logical explanation for all that's happening," I said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well…."

* * *

Once I finished telling my story, I felt so unburdened. To finally be able to tell someone the long held secret was liberating, even if the person didn't believe me.

"You really expect me to believe such a ludicrous tale?" Lennox demanded.

"Nope. I sort of figured you wouldn't," I replied, sighing.

"Let's say for a second I believe you—that this really is some alternate reality—how the hell did you get this cover?" Lennox asked.

"Okay, that cover was not my idea. Believe me, when I first saw it, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. If I had a say, it would have been completely different."

"How so?" Lennox asked, curious.

"Why does it matter?" I replied, frowning.

"You're right, it doesn't. So, let me see if I understand this: you one day discovered your favorite characters disappeared and then wrote a book about them?"

"Yup."

"So, really, you stole someone else's idea."

"No, I resent that! How can you steal something that stopped existing?"

"Is that how you sleep at night?"

"No, a cup of warm milk usually helps but whatever! The original author has no clue I 'stole' from him so no harm, no foul," I said, shrugging.

"Oh, okay, so, if I stole your phone without you having any clue, then it's okay, right?"

"It's not the same thing! Eventually, I will find out you stole my phone and would demand for it back. I don't have to worry about the author coming after me," I argued. When Lennox's disapproved frown deepened, I sighed heavily. "You don't understand, I _had_ to do it! I had the worst roommate ever, and the B&amp;N contest gave me a chance to move out! I tried thinking of an original story, really, I did, but I couldn't think of anything that I knew would win me the fifty grand! So, since Transformers was gone and no one seemed to remember but me, I figured it'd be okay. Besides, I felt it was my responsibility to bring the franchise back! It wasn't until I was already three chapters away from completion when I found out Transformers had come to life!" I finished my explanation, almost panting as I gauged Lennox's expression. He appeared unimpressed. "Ugh, you know what, whatever. Like I care if you approve," I muttered. "Am I being charged or something? I think I'd like my lawyer now."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. You're being held here indefinitely under the National Defense Authorization Act, so you cannot have a lawyer at this time," Lennox said.

"What? But… but what about my rights?!" I demanded.

"The NDAA allows indefinite detention without due process," Lennox replied.

"Such a thing exists?!" I shouted. "That sounds so un-American!"

"Maybe, but it was created in the aftermath of 9/11 as a measure against terrorists."

"But I'm not a terrorist!"

"I don't believe you understand the gravity of your situation. You published extremely sensitive information for the entire world to read. In the eyes of the government, you committed treason."

"That's flippin' ridiculous! You can call me a thief, but you can_not_ call me a traitor! It's not like I revealed national secrets!"

"Sector Seven?"

"Well, that's… oh, come on, people already suspect the government has some secret faction devoted to aliens! Area 51?" I pointed out. "Look, what does it matter, anyway? To the world, my book is fictional. No one's the wiser and the government wouldn't be either if I hadn't kept the names of the Transformers."

"Yeah, why did you do that?" Lennox inquired.

"Because…." I muttered my response, prompting Lennox to ask me to repeat myself. "I said I wanted to meet the Autobots!" I snapped, grateful for my dark skin disguising my undoubtedly heated cheeks.

Lennox scoffed lightly, a subtle smirk on his handsome face as he stood to his feet.

"Well, rest assured the feeling's mutual."

"Seriously?!" I gasped happily. "The Autobots wanna see _me_?!"

"Yeah, but I don't think the whole alternate universe nonsense will fly with them," Lennox said, moving towards the door while motioning for me to stand.

I followed him out into the hall where two men stood posted by the door while staring ahead. Lennox nodded curtly at them before walking in long, purposeful strides down the well-lit corridor as I struggled to maintain his brisk pace.

"Tell me, Major, did you believe in aliens before this whole ordeal?" I asked bluntly. Lennox frowned, not responding, so I replied instead. "I'm just going to go ahead and assume the answer is no. You didn't believe in aliens, but they exist, right? Okay, so it's the same thing with my alternate universe 'nonsense.' I didn't believe such a thing existed until I actually found myself in one, you know?" Lennox remained silent, and I couldn't see his expression since I trailed behind him. "You're considering I'm right, aren't you?" I spoke up.

"Here we are," Lennox said, ignoring my question as we entered an enormous room where the Autobots stood in their robot form, their conversation ceasing once we entered.

Holy crap, it's really them! I stared in stunned awe at each Autobot when I caught the intense glare from Sunstreaker and flinched, inching towards Lennox.

"Chill out, you're scaring her," Sideswipe said, nudging his brother.

"Good," Sunstreaker snapped.

"Olivia Daniels," Optimus called commandingly. "Sorry, that we couldn't meet under better conditions. How is your shoulder?"

"Broken," I replied, grinning. "But I'll live."

"Sunny, is there something you'd like to say to the femme?" Sideswipe asked.

"Kiss my aft."

"Fine, I'll do it for you. I'm so sorry for my glitchhead of a brother. He can be… well, a glitchhead," Sideswipe said, earning snickers from the other Autobots.

"You want to go for round two, slaghead?" Sunstreaker growled.

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," Optimus called warningly.

"It's cool, really, but I must say it took guys long enough! My book was out, what, two months?" I said.

"We had you under surveillance the entire time," Lennox said.

"What?!" I blurted, shocked.

"We would have brought you in earlier, but before we could, you already had become quite the celebrity. And so, to avoid putting the spotlight on ourselves, we opted for the surveillance option," Lennox explained.

"Surveillance, huh? So, the government was watching me this whole time?" I thought, shuddering. "I am officially creeped out."

"Not as much as me, I'm sure," a voice spoke from above.

I glanced up to find Epps standing on the upper deck while leaning over the railing as he stared down at me.

"You're talking about my book, right?" I said. "Let me ask you a question—"

"Here we go," Lennox sighed.

"Did you believe in aliens before you met these guys?" I asked as if Lennox hadn't rudely interrupted me while gesturing towards the Autobots.

"She's going to tell you we're in an alternate reality," Lennox said when Epps stared at me in confusion.

"Alternate reality?!" Epps practically spat.

"Alternate reality?" the Autobots echoed.

"What a joke. It's a joke," Sunstreaker stated, shaking his head.

"Am I laughing?" I snapped, shooting him a glare. "No, seriously, an alternate reality is the only likely explanation for everything," I insisted.

"How so?" Ratchet asked intrigued.

"Well, because you're… in my reality, which is the true reality, you're fictional characters. You started out as a toyline before being adapted in comics, cartoons and even live-action movies. That's, uh, what my book is based on—the first film of the Transformers movies. There's four, or sorry, there _were _four movies. Funny thing was, the day before I someway, somehow entered this reality, I was looking up movie times to see the fourth one. I hadn't seen the fourth one. I really wanted to see the fourth one. Mark Wahlberg was set to star—"

"Optimus, the girl is clearly delusional!" Ironhide interrupted.

_"Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs! Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!"_ Bumblebee said.

"Stop that, I'm not crazy!" I protested, offended. "Believe me, I thought I was crazy at first, but now I'm positive I'm right! I've proved it, haven't I? You've read my book. How the heck did I know about the fact Epps swears he'll never visit Fig's mother's house because of the weird stuff he eats? I didn't make that up!" I said. "And you guys!" I motioned towards the Autobots. "You guys are aliens for crying out loud! Is it really so farfetched that alternate universes exist? I mean, how else would you explain how I knew the things I did? I'm just saying, if I've learned anything about this whole experience, it's that anything is possible."

No one said anything, the silence almost deafening as the Autobots exchanged glances. It took me a full minute to realize they were communicating with each other until finally, Optimus lowered himself to my level, his blue optics probing.

"If, Miss Daniels, what you say is true about alternate realities, how did you come to arrive in this one?"

"Good question; I'll get back to you once I figure it out," I replied.

"Optimus, you're not actually buying this girl's ludicrous story, are you?" Ironhide demanded.

"Honestly, at this point, I'll believe in anything," Epps said, moving down the metal steps and joining everyone on the ground floor. "Just a few months ago, I believed aliens were pure science-fiction."

"Epps, really?" Lennox said, frowning.

"Hell yeah, really; is it really so impossible to believe?"

"You say there were four movies with your book based off the first one…" Sideswipe started, "So, that means you know what happens next."

"Sure, if you believe her nonsense about us being a bunch of fictional characters," Sunstreaker said.

"Well, obviously she got her information somehow. Who's to say she doesn't know more about us, about what happens next?" Sideswipe asked.

_"The man… I like the way you think pardner!"_ Bumblebee spoke using radio clips.

"I'm sure the Decepticons are thinking similarly," Ratchet said, nodding. "They know you hold valuable information."

"Right, so you'll remain here until we can figure out the Decepticon situation—" Lennox started when I cut him off.

"Whoa, wait, you're kidding, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to hang out with the Autobots and all, but I can't stay here!" I protested. "What about school? What about my family and friends? What about my _fans_? When people discover I'm missing, it'll be all over the media! That won't be good for the government, right?"

_"The girl's got a point. Let's take a beat and listen," _Bumblebee said.

"Yeah, yeah, take a beat and listen," I echoed. "Can't you just assign me a guardian or something?"

"That… is not a bad idea," Lennox admitted.

"I volunteer, Sunny," Sideswipe said.

"What?!" Sunstreaker snapped. "No slaggin' way! Why should I be the one to do it?"

"You were the one originally assigned to watch her."

"So?"

"It's fine," I cut in. "I wouldn't want him as my guardian anyways seeing as how he did such an awesome job last time," I said, pointing at my sling.

_"Oooh,"_ Bumblebee played the same recording sitcoms used when inciting a situation.

I flinched as Sunstreaker's blue optics flashed indignantly, the Autobot slowly approaching me. Even so, I stood my ground and kept talking, ignoring the saner side of me to quit before I truly got myself into trouble

"I mean, I'd definitely rather have someone who's actually capable—"

"I'd watch your words, squishy. If you value your life—"

"Sunstreaker," Optimus interrupted warningly.

Sunstreaker paused, his intense glare still focused on me as he debated his next move.

"Tch. Fine, whatever. I'll be the squishy's guardian."

"You know, for someone whose name is Sunny, you're really not," I said. "Oh, and it's Olivia; not squishy."

"Like I care," Sunstreaker muttered, moving away towards the back.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

* * *

**Constructive criticism is always welcome! Thanks for all the follows, reviews and favorites. They make my day :)  
**


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